


and all at once (you are the one I have been waiting for).

by anxiouspunk



Category: Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020)
Genre: Character Study, Domestic Fluff, F/F, First work in fandom, Found Family, I love one badass with a big heart, Light-Hearted, Pre-Relationship, Secret Crush, T rating simply for all the swears really, and she has a big ol crush on dinah but doesn’t know it yet, characters are listed in how relevant they are to the story, helena is just one big awkward lesbian with social skills of zero, honestly we couldn’t get more accurate representation of lesbians though, it’s late so summary is Not Great, making breakfast, of four badass women who love and take care of their scrappy orphan child bc I love that shit, one again overwrote, please forgive me I’m v tired, there’s also a bit of the found family or team as family trope too, this fic brought to you by listening to just solely the reputation album, this is just my love letter to dinah honestly, title as tswift’s ‘king of my heart’
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-22 12:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22749802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiouspunk/pseuds/anxiouspunk
Summary: After a late night ridding Gotham of crime, Helena thought she'd be having a slow, lone morning to herself, only for Dinah to come in with her warm brown eyes and quips to tease the serious woman with and ability to cook french toast way better then Helena could even imagine doing - and forcing her to maybe address some feelings she's been trying to stifle.
Relationships: Helena Bertinelli/Dinah Lance
Comments: 34
Kudos: 424





	and all at once (you are the one I have been waiting for).

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> So, like you all, I saw Birds of Prey (2020) recently and was too, swept up in all the amazing female characters and ships. I love Dinah with my whole heart, and not long after stalking the tumblr tag, fell in love with the idea of her and Helena (and, well, we all loved the 'I love this chick, she has rage issues!' scene). And not long after, this idea just came to me - so I hope you like it!
> 
> Disclaimer: I have no idea about these characer's or their backgrounds or anything outside of just the movie, so I just kinda made it up on my own terms, so..if it doesn't match up please do not come for me with pitchforks

It was a late morning.

Helena stumbled into the Birds of Prey’s shared kitchen, pads of her fingers scrubbing over her eyes. It’d been a long night last night. Running through the city, trying to catch this shitstain of a guy who organized a crime ring that stole kids off doorsteps and sold them. And they did catch him; thankfully he was the last one, and to say he was black and blue before they put a bullet through his head would be an understatement. Most of it was her doing, she’ll admit. She still had the bruised knuckles to prove it. Say what you want about ‘rage issues’ – it tends to roar it’s head more when innocent kids are involved.

But it was morning now. The bright, summer sun was peaking through the curtains, the bustle outside was still quiet, and Helena was, frankly, rather hungry.

She walked up to the counter, wrangling the chipped coffee machine. Probably the most loved machine between the three woman, honestly. Superhero work doesn’t really pay the big bucks, and there’s only so much her inheritance can get them. So they had to pool together their resources; this worn three-bedroom, tiny-but-in-a-cozy-way apartment over a grocers, the mismatch of furniture they all brought from their own places, and whatever odds-an-ends they can get. This coffee machine was actually from the police station; Montonya took it on her way out, as a final ‘fuck you’ to those sexist pigs.

Helena filled it up from the sink, poured the coffee packet inside, and set it to brew. She walked over to the cupboard, opening it up as it creaked, pulling out three mugs. It wouldn’t be long before the others were up; she tended to be the early bird of the group (witnessing a tragedy like hers at such an early age doesn’t really do wonders for your sleep), but it’d be ten soon anyway. She picked up her designated mug – the white one with a picture of Robin Hood from that disney movie on it, shooting his arrow. Cass got it for her. She thought it would be funny.

Helena wanted to be mad about it, but she couldn’t. The others thought it was funny though. She still remembers how hard Dinah laughed, almost falling out of her chair. Helena shook her head remembering, scoffing quietly.

Speaking of, as the assassin stood tapping her fingers while trying to come up with breakfast, there was a creaking from the floorboards. Helena whipped around, resisting the internal urge to swipe for the switchblade she always keeps on her holster – except right now, as she was just wearing pyjama pants and a tank, which was for the better because it took her nearly a month to stop grabbing anyone who approached her from behind in a death grip. Instead, she watches Dinah walk around the corner, brushing her braids out of her face. She stops on her heels when she spots the taller girl.

“Oh – ‘ey..” She greets, blinking back sleep from the warm, brown eyes. Helena only starred back for a second; Dinah was out of her usual tight pants, and instead was in just sweats and a sports bra. She could see the faint, defined line of her abs over the flat stomach, and even the modest bulge of her forearms not currently covered by a leather jacket.

Realizing she hadn’t said anything, Helena quickly cleared her throat, shaking it off “Hey..”

“Should’ve known you’d already be up..” Dinah walked forward, taking her mug. The low, natural gravel of her voice was even more pronounced when it’d been resting from sleep. Helena pretended she didn’t notice that.

“Well, you know..another day, another goon to beat up...”

“Except today we’re playing hookie..” Dinah reminded her as she filled her mug with water, lips tilting in the slightest as she glanced to Helena “Honestly, I kinda wanna see if you can handle a day off without the bow or if your brain is gunna melt out your ears...”

Helena rolled her eyes, ignoring the quiet snigger “I can _handle_ a day off alright, I’m not a complete robot..” A pause “Besides, Cass is a good kid; so I don’t mind much that we’re taking her down to the fair. She should get a chance to actually have fun and act her age..”

“Honestly, I think half the reason we’re going is for Harley and less for Cass..” The songstress took a long sip out of her cup, after placing it down on the counter “..So, what’s for breakfast?”

“That’s, what I was trying to figure out before _you_ interrupted me..”

“Ooh, real cuthroat H..” Dinah grinned, Helena trying not to do the same back. No one had ever really ‘knicknamed’ her (besides the faded _darling_ of her mother’s voice), but Dinah called her ‘H.’ Helena didn’t actually hate it, and quite frankly, Dinah was probably the only one who could get away with it.

That was the thing about Dinah. She was effortlessly cool. She was one of those people who didn’t even have to think about it. Whereas Helena spent who knows how many hours practising her killer lines in front of a mirror that would only flop in their awkwardness, Dinah’s energy was intrinsic and easy. She pretty much always knew what to say and got along with damn near everyone. You could be yourself around Dinah because she wouldn’t judge you for nothing. Even if you were a stilted, clumsy mess like Helena was, Dinah made up for it.

It was both attractive and aggravating. It was unclear which.

Helena watched her pull open the fridge, poking around “Let’s see, we got...not a whole fuckin’ lot..”

“We still have cereal, and, well, Montoya’s porriage packets..”

“Yeah, _no thanks.”_ Dinah scoffed “And I’m lookin’ for a little more then cereal. There’s still some eggs..uh, _some_ fruit, those fucking awful whole wheat bagels – god, why does Montoya buy this shit?..”

“She says in her age she can’t afford to eat like us ‘skinny assholes’ or something..”

“Well that’s her deal. Uh, I guess we could...– wait! Hold on..” Helena saw her reach deep within the depths of the fridge, only to stand back up holding a loaf of bread triumphantly “How do you feel about french toast?..”

“I guess it’ll do..”

“I’ll take it.” Dinah quips, tossing the bread which Helena clumsily catches so she could pull out the eggs and milk.

They get to work, gathering a skillet and bowls, Dinah even cracking eggs one-handed into it to Helena’s amazement. She whisked those up, right as the coffee machine beeped to signal it was done. Helena meant to do it herself, but suddenly found the bowl and milk stuffed into her hands.

“Here, put some milk into that will ya? I’ll get the coffee..”

“Uhhh..” She starred down somewhat helplessly at the yellow liquid “how much should it be again?..”

“I dunno, just a dash or whatever..”

“Right..and you know..just-just to be..super clear..how-how much is a dash?..”

Dinah didn’t say anything, but turned back with a look that was both incredulous and amused “..Shit, you’ve never made this before have you?”

The taller girl huffed, eyes rolling back “Do I look like the kind of asshole who spends tedious time in the morning making breakfasts?!”

“Well I’m sure hunting down mom and pop’s killers only left time for you to grab breakfast sandwiches, and then before that, well, livin’ the rich kid dream – pancakes served to you on your butler’s silver platter. Here –..”

Before Helena could counter-protest, Dinah moved forward and placed a hand over her own that was holding up the milk. She felt her heart jump into her throat, unexpectedly. Dinah’s hand was soft, and warm – not surprising, as Dinah was pretty warm-blooded. Helena figured that out soon enough after living together for three months. Her fingertips were always warm, whereas Helena had always been more cold-blooded. Perhaps that had to do with having a stick-figure body; ‘twig limbs’, her roomates had once called them.

“Here, it’s just like this..” Dinah carefully manoeuvred Helena’s hand, tipping it so a splotch of milk slipped from the carton into the bowl.

“You don’t need to measure it?”

“I mean, not unless you really want to..”

Helena glared down at the bowl, the mix of white seeping into the yellow “I like precision..”

“You don’t say..” She moved back to the coffee machine to take out the pot, sliding over her and Helena’s mug with her “How do you like your coffee?”

Helena paused. She nervously pressed her lips together, unsure what to say. She knew it was dumb but, so far, she’s kept this secret away from her friends and she can’t let it out now. If Montoya or, god, especially Dinah, knew this –

“Hello?? Crossbow??”

“Black.” Helena burst out, brow suddenly furrowed with bravado seriousness “Just black.”

Dinah scoffed, like she often did when her friens tried to puff herself up to be intimidating

“What, like the night?”

“Yeah?! And?!”

“Just surprised you didn’t want it with the blood of your enemies or some shit..” She turned back and began pouring “It’s fine, it’s how I like mine.”

Dinah slides her back her Robin Hood mug when she’s done, taking a sip out of her own. Helena took it but, when Dinah wasn’t paying attention, slid it away from her slightly.

“Alright, I’ll get the cinnamon and other stuff; you start whisking that, make sure it’s all mixed.”

Helena nodded, picking up the whisk from the pot of utensils – and, like all things she does, put all her energy into it. She iron-gripped the whisk and began stirring in what she thought was the best way to get it all mixed, even through the yellow splatters that started jumping out as the sides of the whisk scraped the bowl, determined to prove she could do breakfast –

“Jesus fucking christ Helena!” Dinah jumped forward, snatching the pale wrist in full stop, raising a brow at her “You’re just trying to mix batter, not beat it for information it’s not telling you!..”

“You said to mix it! I’m mixing it! Make up your mind!”

Dinah sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose “Alright, just..it’s fine, just...slower. I really don’t want to have to pull a Patrick Swayze _Ghost_ with you to show you how to mix it...”

Helena furrowed, this time out of confusion “..What?”

“C’mon man!” Dinah held up her hands in frustration “How have you not at least heard of that movie!”

“Hey, I grew up in _remote_ Italy alright! There were barely working phones let alone cable!”

“Remind me next time Harley wants to do another one of those ‘girl nights’ to rent _Ghost_ for you..”

Dinah gets the cinnamon and vanilla out and they mix it in, incorporating enough to start frying it. Helena watches her butter the pan they left on the stove, dunk a piece of bread in the batter and place it down, listening to the hearty sizzle and pop as it cooked. After a while, Dinah decided it was too quiet in here; she started fiddling with the rather retro radio sitting on the sill below the window right above the sink, switching through till she got her channel, and then gave it a _thwack_ with her fist when it failed to start up. Now, instead of the crackle of the cooking pan, rap-esque pop filled the kitchen, just low enough to ruminate in the background. Helena had always been more of a hard rock fan then into rap like Dinah, but she didn’t hate it, busy putting another piece in the batter as the other girl surprised her by starting to sing.

Not loudly, obviously. Just under her breath, mostly humming. There was no doubting Dinah had a beautiful voice. They don’t get to hear it much anymore, but, once, Helena had come home early, and accidentally walked into Dinah singing. She was in the shower so she had no idea the assassin was home. Or that Helena sat outside the closed bathroom, just listing to the melody for minutes on end, that small smile on her lips and something soft in her chest that she hadn’t felt in years.

“You want a spatula or something?” Helena asked, now that the piece was getting pretty fried on one end.

“Nah.” Dinah replied. Instead, she gripped the handle tight, and with a simple jerk of her arm, lifted up the pan and flipped the toast over. A tiny smile of pride leaked out after. Helena raised an eyebrow.

“How’d you learn that?”

She shrugged “I dunno. My mom, she used to make this a lot, so I learned from her..”

“She did?..”

“Yeah; I mean, it’s a pretty easy breakfast even if you’re dirt poor.” She reached across the kitchen, grasping for the plate she’d left out until Helena jumped in, passing it to her, getting a nod as she put it beside the stove “A couple eggs lifted from a grocer’s carton, a dollar loaf of bread, cinnamon from the neighbours..”

She lifted her gaze, the strong but open brown eyes meeting Helena’s.

“..not a bad option to appease a kid.”

Helena waited, letting Dinah’s words roll over her and a quietness settle in. She shifted, back against the metal fridge handle, starring across the kitchen to the left mess of batter droplets and left out milk. She doesn’t turn but her eyes flick to the side to her.

“..You never really mention your mom..”

Dinah stiffens. Immediately, Helena’s stomach plummets. Shit. Said the wrong thing. _Again._ She was never able to pick her words right, mostly due to not-having-any-friends-or-really-talking-to-anyone-in-years thing. She’d gotten the vibe from Montoya that Dinah’s mom was a sensitive subject, and well, she could understand that. Her parents were the same. And now, she goes about openly talking about her? She quickly tried to back-track, but didn’t get there in time.

“..Well, I’m mentioning her now..” Dinah spoke softly. She didn’t look up, sliding the now cooked ‘toast’ onto the plate and fishing the one in the bowl out with a fork, dumping it onto the pan.

Helena didn’t really know what to say to that. She just stared across, boring holes into the maroon walls of the apartment. Silence ticked by, pressing weight into the ease of just a few minutes ago. Helena wanted that back. Her gaze roamed along and hit her mug abandoned on the other side, still steaming with a brim full of coffee.

She felt that that must’ve been really hard for Dinah, to talk about her mom. Even in the bare minimum of breakfast food. It’s hard to bare your skin like that. So maybe Helena can meet her half-way. The Huntress took a deep breath in then, shifting back to be facing Dinah.

“...Can I tell you something?..”

Dinah glanced over at her. Raised a single brow – a wordless _go on._ Helena took in another deep breath. God, she was probably going to regret this.

“....I don’t like my coffee black.”

A beat. Dinah furrowed at her, confusion painted everywhere. Helena swallowed thickly.

“I-I actually like it lighter. Like, way lighter. I put, like, seven sugar packets in it. Sometimes ten, depending on how strong the pot is. Then a bunch of milk. I also like to put nutmeg ontop. I just...said black, because..it sounded better, and I thought...you guys would give me shit otherwise..”

Helena waited for the immediate teasing, to be poked and prodded over the fact of being this dark and foreboding assassin who likes her coffee with more sugar than caffeine. But Dinah didn’t say anything, only starring back. Instead it was quiet, stretching on for a couple seconds as Helena wondered anxiously.

And then, Dinah burst out laughing. Helena watched the cool and collect girl’s face scrunch up, nearly bowing over as she laughter poured out of her. The taller’s face also scrunched up but in a much different way.

“..God, you are the _weirdest_ motherfucker out there H..” She went back to flipping over the bread, somehow completely nonpulsed by this bomb of information “Honestly, this ain’t any weirder then when we found out you were a Taylor Swift fan.”

“I said I liked _one_ song!” Helena burst, hand hitting her palm to show emphasis, now mad that her barring her soul like that that didn’t go off like she thought it would but now Dinah wants to dredge _that_ up too “They’re _suppose_ to be catchy alright – top fourty songs are in the top fourty for a reason!!”

Despite Helena’s increasing tone, Dinah continued to grin “It’s just, I thought you were into that hard rock shit..”

“Yeah, it’s called _nuance!_ I have layers! Like an onion!”

“Wow.” Dinah turned after putting that second cooked piece onto the pile, a hand on her hip “So you don’t know _Ghost_ but you can casually throw out a line from _Shrek?”_

Helena just rolled her eyes, leaning back against the fridge “Cass made me watch it with her..”

That got more sniggering, of course “God bless that kid...”

“Whatever.” Helena sighed “What’s the fucking point – you never take me seriously anyway..”

“‘Cause you’re too busy taking _yourself_ too seriously.” Dinah hit back. Helena looked up to her, to the half-serious, half-grin. And, then, almost from nowhere, a tiny chuckle bubbled out from her chest.

Yeah, she guessed she had to admit she did.

The songstress started chuckling too once she saw the usually sombre face light up, which pulled an even brighter smile out of Helena. They left it at that, fading to the comfortable silence as Dinah placed two more soaked pieces toast onto the pan. Time seemed to slow, Helena left watching the other girl.

Dinah Lance. Early morning Dinah with a lower voice and movements less sharp. Before she puts on her coloured eyeshadow and dark lipstick and ten thousand different gold bracelets and rings and whatnot. Who smiles a little easier. She’s such a conundrum to Helena sometimes.

She remembers her last night; how she was the one who first wanted to hunt that asshole down and the first to throw the punch. How she was the one who gripped his collar with grit teeth and all to eagerly pushed the barrel of the gun into his mouth to blow out his brains once Helena was done beating him to a pulp.

She was also the first to rush to the van of kids that he’d kidnapped. She was the one asking each one if they knew their home address or even what it looked like. She was the one who put her arms around the little girl who couldn’t have been more then seven who was sobbing for her mother and promised it was going to be okay. And she fulfilled it, getting each kid back to the home they belonged to.

She was the one who always asked Cass if she got enough sleep and told her if she _ever_ caught her with alcohol before she was twenty-one she’d cut her hands off. She was also the one who taught Cass the ‘pull my finger’ trick and then dared her to try it on Helena.

Dinah was _not_ soft. You couldn’t afford to be, losing a parent that early on, as Helena knew. She wore the near constant look of seriousness and her shoulders rolled with a heavy power. She had thick skin and a toughness that didn’t need testing.

She wasn’t soft, but she was _kind._ Her grit and her might didn’t affect how she wore her heart on her sleeve. She doesn’t go this ‘good-doer’ act because it was what was ‘morally’ right like Montoya did, or because it came from a horrible backstory like Helena, but because of her compassion. She knew exactly what she believed in and that was doing right by whoever she comes by.

And Helena kind of loves that about her.

Helena doesn’t have kindness. She lost it, somewhere along her path of anger and hurt and revenge. She did that for Cass, way back in that disturbing clown shack, because the second she saw this innocent kid who’d been swept up in needless bloodshed and violence, she saw herself. She immediately recognized those shining tears and terror on the young face as her own belonging to those many years ago. So she was able to save another soul from being scarred the same way, but, if _she’d_ been the one who saw a drunk Harley being hustled by some guys into a van, she probably would’ve just shrugged it off that Harley was perfectly capable on her own and it wasn’t her business.

But Dinah made her want it back.

Years ago, she would’ve called kindness frivolous. A stupid trait that if you didn’t get rid of it it could get you killed. But now she’s kind of awe of it on this amazing woman, who wears her compassion and her power in perfect balance. How it would feel, to not put yourself through repeated nights of violence and fighting, sowing up cuts and bruises later, not because the growl inside you craves to claw into someone and _hurt,_ but because you’re doing it so others don’t have to witness the same pain.

That idea does something to Helena. Makes this bubble of excitement and warmth press through her chest. Almost the same kind she feels when she sees a usually serious Dinah grin.

It was weird. And good. Weird good.

Helena was so lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed Dinah turning to her, eyes crossing again. Helena’s white cheeks went right into bloom. Oh god, she noticed her staring. Oh shit. They just stared at each other in total silence, Helena grasping for something to do or say or anything and Dinah looking like she was just about say something –

The front door suddenly started making noise. Both women spun around to see it creaking open and a bleach blonde head coming through.

“Heelllooooo ladieessss!!”

“Oh god.” Dinah’s head fell back as Helena’s eyes rolled _“why,_ why did we give her a key?”

“Because it was to stop Cass from picking the lock remember?..”

“God..– you know the bitch can’t sit still for a minute, she’s gunna wanna go now. Here, can you finish these, and I’ll get everything else so we can eat.”

Helena nodded, not having much choice as she grabbed onto the pan handle, trying to mimic Dinah’s movements from earlier to shuffle the bread around as the songstress started getting plates and everything set up.

The intruders came around once they didn’t hear a response, walking into the kitchen. Harley was as usual, in some sparkly mess of short-shorts and a tee and mesh tights, smiling way too big for what was still early enough, and Cassandra was behind her toting some bags, in her cap and shirt with the tasmanian devil on it.

“Well looks like you little early birdies are gunna catch the worm!” She grinned despite the grimaces at the imagery “Where’s Montoya?”

“Still in bed.” Helena answered, eyes widening slightly when she saw Harley turn around to the hall “Harley, I-I wouldn’t so that, Montoya’s not exactly a morning person..–”

“Psshhh! That ex-piggie can’t sleep forevah, even if her buddy Jack Daniels makes her wanna.” Harley winked, slipping away down the hall “Oh _Reeneee!..”_

“Yep, she’s getting her eyes scratched out..” Dinah said as she busied, making Helena snort. Cass herself simply watched, dumping the bags down to slide up next to Dinah.

“Hey..”

“Ey kid.”

“What’re you guys making?..”

“French toast.”

“Looks good..” Cass eyed the plate sitting by Helena hungrily, because, knowing Harley, she probably just fed the kid Fruit Loops again “Are..are we all gunna have some?..”

“I dunno..” Dinah turned to the young girl, hand returning to her hip and giving her a serious once-over “What do you got for me?”

“Uhhhh...” Cass blanked, brow bunching as she patted herself down in search of anything in her pockets that wasn’t candy wrappers or parking tickets Harley just tells her to throw off the car. Dinah started chuckling, pulling the cap over Cass’s face.

“Go get a plate.” She steers the kid by her shoulders, nudging her to the cupboard.

Helena, catching the sight by the corner of her vision, scoffs and shakes her head with maybe slight amusement, sliding the last pieces from the pan onto the pile. She picks up the plate to bring it to the table, only to suddenly feel soft, sure fingers on the small of her back, stopping her.

“Here, trade you..”

“Huh?..”

In a blink the plate was taken from her hand and a mug replaced it. Helena watched Dinah walk off to the table with the pile of sugary bread, Cass scurrying after with another plate and syrup, blinking back. Then, she looks down at this gifted mug, finding it was _her_ mug from earlier. However, instead of being full of disgusting black liquid, it was steaming with a light, _light_ milky brown she was very familiar with.

Tentatively she brought it to her lips, letting the hot coffee slip past – and then smiling wide against the rim of the cup as that happy warmth started spreading in her chest again.

It was perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope that was good for you! Kudos/comments are encouraged, if not downright begged for; and to either your delight or dismay, I hope to have more BOP fics out soon. And if you'd like to see dumb gay jokes and me scream about nothing, I can be found on tumblr @paris-geller-was-straightwashed.


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